


The Ransom of the Red Dragon Hunter

by detectivejigsaw



Series: Flipside AU [17]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Humor, More tags to follow, Pines Family Bonding, Return of the Wild Hunt, Tiny child adventures, attempted revenge, flipside AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27032320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivejigsaw/pseuds/detectivejigsaw
Summary: The Wild Hunt returns to Gravity Falls, and tries to get its revenge on the Pines family.Unfortunately, they chose the wrong target.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Sherman "Shermie" Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Sherman "Shermie" Pines/Original Character(s)
Series: Flipside AU [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587223
Comments: 87
Kudos: 79





	1. Men at work

**Author's Note:**

> ....Weeeeelcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to the Flipside AU!  
> I owe the thanks for this particular story to darylstorey, who suggested it when I was having slight writer's block about what to include next in this fun and immensely popular AU, so you have her to partially thank for it.  
> Enjoy.

It felt like it had been months since anything crazy happened to the Pines family and their friends.

During the weeks after the whole bottomless pit incident they’d only had to deal with normal stuff, like Stan nearly being forced to marry an Amazon and having to beat her in a footrace in order to escape her clutches, or that dogsled race with the space lizard. In between those things they’d done their tours and taught classes for monsters, and showed Shermie’s family some of the cool (and comparatively safe) parts of the forest, and continued exploring the deeper areas of Crash Site Omega.

And this morning Stan and Ford were at the dock, working on their boat.

* * *

There were a few people out fishing, but for the most part they were able to work undisturbed, measuring and cutting boards while a mini radio played nearby. Occasionally Ford would get distracted looking out towards the little islands in the center of the lake; he was almost positive that one of them would switch places from time to time, but wasn’t sure how. Stan’s theories were either that it was secretly a submarine like in  _ 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea _ , the lake had random freak earthquakes that shifted the islands around, or Ford was just crazy (Ford insisted that the latter wasn’t a “real” theory, knock it off, Stanley).

In any case, so far it had been pretty sedentary this morning, but the investigator of anomalies was still keeping an eagle eye on it.

“Ford, hand me the tape measure, wouldya?”

Stan waited a second for his brother to respond; he got nothing.

“Ford.”

Still no response.

“Saturn is one of the moons of Jupiter.”

Ford whipped his head around. “What? It is not!”

Stan held out his hand with a smirk. “Tape measure, please.”

Ford narrowed his eyes at him, and handed over the tape measure.

“You’re spendin’ too much time obsessing over that thing,” Stan chided as he measured a new board and marked it with a pencil.

“I’m  _ attempting _ to research it,” Ford said; even as he picked up his tools again he was looking back out at the island. “Maybe we need to come back at a different time of day so I can prove that it’s actually moving…”

“Watch out, you’re about to hammer your thumb.”

“The easiest way, of course, would be to get a video camera and keep it out here recording for an extended period of- **_DAAAAUGH SON OF A_ ** -”

Ford recoiled, shaking his now-throbbing hand, and ended up overbalancing and falling over backwards into the water.

Stan was still laughing even as he rose to the surface.

“You are a walking disaster area, Sixer,” he said, offering his brother a hand up.

“Shut up,” Ford grumbled; he took off his glasses and shook some of the excess water off them, before grabbing a corner of Stan’s T-shirt to dry them on.

“Hey!” Stan batted him away. “Use your own!”

“My shirt is  _ wet _ , Stanley! That makes it physically impossible for me to use it to clean my glasses. Stop being stingy and share your dryness with me.” Ford lunged at his brother again; Stan stepped aside, and he was unable to course correct in time.

“Oops.”

_ SPLASH! _

Ford resurfaced in a spluttering shower of water, to more raucous laughter from Stan. He looked up at his twin...and then splashed a wave right into his grinning face.

For a second Stan just blinked down at him, while water dripped from his face and hair.

Then he rolled up his sleeves, and with a wild karate yell he leaped into the water and brought his brother down with a wild tackle.

Things dissolved further into chaos from there.

* * *

At some point they both started laughing as they wrestled about, trying to get the other in a position where he could be effectively dunked; neither of them realized they had an audience until Shermie’s voice said, “Having a productive morning, I see.”

They both froze and looked up guiltily at their older brother.

He was standing on the dock with his hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised.

Stan let go of Ford quickly, and pointed at him. “He started it.”

“Only if you’re quibbling with technicalities!”

Shermie rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He crouched down and helped them both out onto the dock.

“Woof, probably should’ve taken off our shoes before we did that,” Stan admitted; he immediately pulled them off, followed by his socks and shirt. Ford followed suit.

(Unnoticed by all of them, an old lady in a rowboat turned in time to see this happening, and her eyes lit up.

“This fishing trip just got 100% better!” she said with a pleased smile.)

“Heh, now we got some flags for this thing.” Stan picked up their damp shirts, and got to work tying them to the mast. Granted, the shape of the boat meant that it was mostly lying on its side and so they hung at kind of a weird angle, but it was the thought that counted.

Ford snorted at his brother, but knelt and got started reorganizing their tools, which had gotten somewhat scattered during the incident.

As he was doing that, Shermie suddenly asked in a worried tone, “Whoa, what happened there?”

Ford looked up. Shermie was staring at his back; specifically at his right shoulder, where there happened to be a long pink scar.

Ford’s stomach lurched.

“Um-” his eyes darted over Shermie’s shoulder for a second, before he said quickly, “Just an accident during one of our investigations.”

Shermie’s eyes narrowed, and he looked over at Stan-who was still innocently making their shirts into mini-flags.

He turned back to his other brother. “That must’ve been some accident.”

“Mmm.” Ford finished putting everything where it had been before he hammered his thumb, and straightened up. “Did you need something?”

“Rebecca sent me down to ask if you guys are okay with fajitas for lunch.”

“Sounds good ta me.”

Ford nodded in agreement. “When will they be ready?”

“In about a couple hours.” Shermie reached out and ruffled Ford’s hair. “Try not to get too soaked before you come back, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here.” Stan balled up one of his socks and threw it at him; Shermie barely dodged it in time, and it plopped into the lake.

With a sigh Shermie retrieved it and dropped it back on the dock, before leaving his brothers to work on their project in peace.


	2. A little misunderstanding goes a long way

**_Little did the unsuspecting humans know that they were in mortal peril._ **

**_For a terrifying enemy whom they had greatly wronged had returned to their little realm, ready to seek revenge for the grievous injustices that had been done to him! A legendary force to be reckoned with, a bold and fierce warrior, who would strike terror into the hearts of all who heard the tale of the Pines family’s destruction at the hands of-_ **

“My prince, are you monologuing about yourself in the third person again?”

Owain ap Gwyn quickly adjusted his horned helmet to cover his face, while his shoulders hunched.

“...No.”

Unfortunately, due to the protective enchantments surrounding the house, the Wild Hunt (American division) was unable to go anywhere near it. This had made it difficult for them to use some of the traditional ways in which the Fair Folk dealt with humans; curdling milk, making livestock die, tying knots in hair while you were sleeping, and so on. Not that any of those were sufficient punishment for their humiliation last time, but they would certainly be a good start until or unless Owain could come up with something else.

He glared through the trees at the cabin, and then began to pace back and forth, remembering (this time) to push his cape back over his shoulders so he wouldn’t step on it. Next to him Terence, a gray demon who usually served as his second-in-command, leaned his elbow on his motorcycle with a sigh that was almost insolent enough to be an indication that he was feeling bored.

“Maybe we can get a will-o-the-wisp to lure them out of the house,” Owain muttered to himself, “and then, when they’re far enough away, BAM!” He punched one fist into the palm of his other hand. “I’ll send them to Avalon for a hundred years, or force them to dance themselves to death, or-”

“...You realize that the rest of the family would most likely just come after us again, right?” Terence asked. “And they’d bring the Iron Lady with them.”

Owain shuddered at the reminder. Even after all this time, thinking about her made his head throb.

“Look, I get you’re still upset about how you got your butt handed to you by a bunch of humans-”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“-but you should focus on the job your dad gave you: getting Tamelene and the bike back. That’s not gonna happen if you just let yourself get distracted by trying to get revenge on them.” He pointed a large gray thumb towards the house.

Owain gave him a withering glare. “You think Father would  _ ever _ take me seriously again if he found out that I got beaten by ‘a bunch of humans,’ and  _ didn’t  _ enact vengeance on them?”

“I don’t think he’s ever taken you seriously,” Terence deadpanned.

“Exactly!” Owain threw up his hands. “Maybe if I show him that I’m not going to let anyone make a fool out of me, he’ll finally see that I’m a formidable and capable member of the Hunt!”

“...I’m pretty sure at this point he just wants Tamelene back.”

“Shut up and help me think of a plan.”

“I can’t do both.”

Unnoticed by either of them, Abezethibou the hell dachshund had seen a tiny, red-hatted figure rushing out of the woods towards the side of the house, and acted on the instincts universal to all dogs who see quickly-moving objects: namely he set off on his stubby little legs in pursuit of it.

* * *

At that same moment, Xander Pines was sitting at the kitchen table coloring while his mother made fajitas for lunch.

Ever since he’d nearly been kidnapped by that older boy, and then he and Mommy had both been held prisoner by the bad man with the creepy yellow eyes and the high voice who was Uncle Ford’s archenemy, Mommy rarely allowed Xander out of her sight if she didn’t have to.

And he had to admit that sometimes that was kinda nice, especially cuz he kept having nightmares about what happened so it helped that he could just crawl into bed with her and Daddy and feel safe again.

But he wasn’t feeling scared about that today, or even thinking about it at all.

No, today he was thinking about his favorite thing in the whole world: dragons.

Ever since finding out that things like magic and mythological creatures were real, Xander had decided that when he grew up, he wanted to be a dragon hunter.

Uncle Ford said that he hadn’t seen any proof that dragons were around anymore, but since he and Uncle Stan had seen the Jersey Devil when they were kids, Xander was confident that dragons had to exist too, since they were big, red and scaly, and so was the Jersey Devil, and if something that looked like that could survive why couldn’t dragons?

He’d read just about every book about them he could get his hands on: European dragons who liked to kidnap fair damsels (Mommy said that a damsel was basically a pretty girl) and slept on piles of treasure, Chinese dragons who were friendly and could make it rain, wyverns, which were dragons who didn’t have any front legs, and everything in between. To him, they were the coolest creatures in the whole world, and one day he wanted to catch one.

Xander finished his drawing (naturally a few dragons were included), and went to a drawer to grab some new paper-and that’s when he heard a noise outside the door to the kitchen.

Namely a frightened yelp, and a muffled voice saying words that Daddy and his uncles tried not to use around him, followed by a crashing and thumping.

Despite what had happened the last time he opened a door to an unusual event, Xander’s curiosity was piqued. He went over to the door and opened it-and immediately all his dreams came true.

Because out there was a gnome who had scrambled on top of one of the trash cans, yelling and cursing and patting out a little fire burning on the top of his hat.

And below him, standing up on its hind legs, growling and breathing out little wisps of fire…

Maybe it was small, and black instead of red, and had long floppy ears, and didn’t have wings or scales, and more than anything looked like a sausage with legs, but Xander wasn’t fooled.

He had just found a dragon, right outside his uncles’ house.

Immediately the boy stuck his head back inside, and glanced over at his mom.

She was focused on cooking the meat and vegetables together, and appeared to be making some kind of pastry to go with the fajitas; this meant that all her attention was focused on them, and not on him. Good.

Xander quickly went to the fridge and pulled out a couple of the water bottles Uncle Stan always kept in there, and on reflection a packet of lunch meat; then he thought for another long moment, before hurrying upstairs and pulling his pillow out of the pillowcase. He flung the pillowcase over his shoulder, and thumped back down the stairs to the living room, where he slipped out the door.

_ Please let it still be there please let it still be there _

He rushed around the side of the house, in time to see that the dragon appeared to have given up trying to eat the gnome, and instead it was trotting away back towards the woods (the gnome had finally put out his hat, and was now muttering angrily to himself as he began digging through the trash).

Xander slowly unscrewed the lid from one of the water bottles, took a deep breath...and then charged.

Had he been a little older and more familiar with the ways of the world, he might have realized that if this  _ was _ a real dragon, his plan of attack would probably constitute as a suicidally stupid idea. As it was, even now a small part of his six-year-old brain was pointing out that this was usually how knights got roasted alive in their own armor.

But in this case the dragon heard him coming, whipped its head around in surprise, and then started running away. Maybe because it was just a little one and it hadn’t learned to be completely ferocious yet.

Xander only increased his speed; he wanted to yell some kind of war cry, but then his mom would probably hear and get upset when she realized he wasn’t in her line of sight anymore, and he wanted to surprise her by bringing home this dragon for her. So he tried to keep silent, and rushed headlong into the woods after it.

It was surprisingly fast for a creature with such tiny legs, but Xander was still able to get close enough to enact part one of his ingenious plan: he turned the water bottle upside down, and squeezed it, so a flood of water came  _ gushing _ out onto the dragon’s head.

The dragon yelped, and managed to create a small burst of flame, but it was quickly extinguished. Without pausing Xander opened the pillowcase, and dived forward, trapping the dragon in his own miniature net.

_ I-I did it! _

_ I caught a dragon on my first try! _

For a moment all he could do was stare in amazement at the squirming, barking pillowcase he was gripping.

_ I didn’t know dragons barked. I’ll have to show Uncle Ford. _

Xander sat up, started to bundle the pillowcase together so he could bring his prize home-and finally noticed the two big people standing in front of him, staring open-mouthed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert PSA here about teaching your children not to go hunting dragons armed with only water bottles and a pillow case*  
> *Teach them to use proper equipment instead*


	3. Owain's odious (dang it, there's not a word for "plot" or "scheme" that starts with O, is there?)

For a moment the three people just stared at each other.

At last Owain blinked, and then demanded indignantly, “Let go of my dog, you little beast!”

The boy scrambled back, still clutching at the pillowcase. “It’s not a dog, it’s a dragon!”

“He is not! I’ll have you know he is a purebred fourth-circle hellhound-”

The boy gasped, and covered his mouth with one hand. “Mom says grownups aren’t supposed ta use the ‘H’ word around me!”

“I’ll say whatever I want, and do far worse to you if you don’t-” Owain finally registered that he was talking to a human child, and more importantly, the child had come here from the house they had been plotting revenge on. His red eyes lit up in slow, gleeful delight, in such a manner that indicated a cartoon lightbulb had just switched on in his brain. “...Terence, I think this is the opportunity we have been waiting for.”

Terence groaned.

“My prince, may I remind you that many of the same problems from your original idea are present in this one? Humans are very attached to their offspring, and I highly doubt-”

“It’s an even better punishment than making livestock drop dead!” Owain was grinning now, wide and triumphant, as the flames of his ambition were stoked higher and higher. “Maybe-maybe we can get one of the guys to become a changeling, or make a fetch or something to send back in his place, so they won’t realize for a long time! And it’ll be the ultimate punishment for the mortals, knowing that crossing me resulted in their losing the thing they hold most dear!”

Unfortunately, since it was a beautiful summer day there was no dramatic lightning to give his words ambiance. Even so, he felt like cackling as he turned his gaze down towards his new prisoner-

Who was no longer where he had been. Instead, while they were distracted he had started trying to drag the pillowcase containing Abezethibou back towards his house.

“Hey!”

Owain made a gesture to Terence, who stepped into a shadow and vanished; a few seconds later he reappeared behind the boy, blocking his way. He yelped, and stumbled back, tripping over a tree root and landing on his rear. Abezethibou took the opportunity to escape the pillowcase, and ran to his master as fast as he could. Owain quickly gathered his beloved hellhound into his arms, and spent a few minutes soothing him after the terrible experience he’d just gone through, before turning his gaze back to the one responsible.

Owain knelt, staring intently at his prisoner. “What’s your name, boy?”

The boy glared back at him, trembling a little but still trying to be brave. “I’m not supposed ta give my name ta strangers-‘specially not grownups!”

Owain growled. “I don’t think you really understand the gravity of the situation here.” He leaned closer, and deepened his voice a little bit, like his father did whenever he was mad at someone. “You’re our prisoner now, so if you don’t do what we say-” He reached out to grab the boy’s shirt collar-and immediately jerked back with a cry.

* * *

The gray guy was at the antler guy’s side immediately. “My prince? What’s the matter?!”

“He burned me!” Antler Guy looked down at his hand, and saw in alarm that the skin of his palm had already started to become red and blistered. He cringed, and let out a small whine of pain.

Xander’s eyes widened, and he pulled something out of the collar of his shirt. Immediately they both pulled out of reach; it was a small iron chain, with pieces of rowan and ash attached to it like pieces on a charm bracelet, and just looking at it seemed to be making their eyes water.

He gasped in realization. “Are you guys Fair Folk? Mom says they don’t like iron and stuff!”

“Take that off!” Antler Guy ordered; he tried to sound intimidating about it, but his voice was all trembly and pained, so it sounded more like he was whining.

Xander shook his head. “Uh-uh. As long as we’re stayin’ in Gravity Falls I’m never ever ever allowed ta take this off or I’ll be grounded ‘til I’m dead or get inta MIT.”

Mom and Dad  _ and _ all his uncles had made that pretty clear to him, so there was no way he was gonna forget it anytime soon.

Antler Guy groaned, and got to his feet again; he rubbed his hand on his cloak. Xander got up too, and stared at him with all the innocence of fog drifting across a harbor in the middle of fishing season.

“My prince,” Gray Guy said, sounding a lot like Uncle Stan when he was trying to talk Uncle Ford out of doing something, “maybe we should just leave them alone and-”

“No! We can work with this, Terence!”

Gray Guy rolled his eyes. “How did I know you were going to say that,” he muttered.

Antler Guy started pacing again, before looking back at Gray Guy. “Go get the rest of the Hunt. We’ll have them form a circle around him so he can’t run away, and then maybe we can arrange a hostage exchange or something. They have to give us back the bike, and-and the two men who had it in the first place, or they’ll never see the kid again!” He grinned all wide again. “It’s brilliant!”

“Utterly flawless,” Gray Guy said, in the way grownups said things when they actually meant the opposite. But he stepped into another shadow, and vanished.

* * *

Owain sighed and adjusted his helmet. This was a good plan. He was going to be the efficient and terrifying leader of the Wild Hunt that he knew he could be, and everyone was finally going to respect-

_ Where did the kid go?! _

“Vroom! Vroom, vroom, vroom!”

“What are you-get off my motorcycle!”

“Aww, c’mon, can’t I just pretend? I can’t even reach the pedals, it’s not like I’m gonna take it anywhere.”

“No! Get off, now!”

“No one ever lets me ride on their magic bikes…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...It's kind of sad how pathetic of a villain Owain is turning out to be so far. It's like he's the Elmer Fudd of the Flipside AU.


	4. Owain's reign of terror, continued

Ford was proud of the level of progress he and Stanley had made on the boat.

It wasn’t quite ready to put in the water, obviously, but they’d been fixing up pieces of wood that would fit just right to fill in the places that had been broken off, and Ford had come up with some adjustments here and there to make it even sturdier, and both of them were applying everything they remembered from their years working on the original  _ Stan O’War _ to pull this broken wreck back into shape.

It was worth every callus and splinter that their hands received.

About half an hour after Shermie came down to tell them about lunch, Ford abruptly said aloud, “This kind of reminds me of the thought experiment of Theseus’s ship.”

“...As in the minotaur guy?” Stan asked.

“Yes, sort of.” Ford polished his glasses on his finally-drying-out shirt, before going into lecture mode. “It’s this philosophical idea that Theseus had a ship, and over time the parts of it were replaced one by one. So ultimately, they wonder, is it the same ship that it was before, and if not, at what point in the process did it become a different one?”

“Huh.”

For a moment they worked in silence.

Then Stan asked, “Why isn’t it Jason’s ship?”

Ford blinked. “What?”

“Jason. The guy with the Argonauts. His ship’s a lot more famous than Theseus’s. Or Odysseus, since he was on the thing for ten years.”

Ford was just opening his mouth to point out that Stan was kind of missing the point of the thought experiment-but then he paused.

Come to think of it...why  _ would  _ Plutarch have chosen Theseus instead of one of the other two? Of course, the one Odysseus traveled in was eventually destroyed by Poseidon, so maybe that was why he didn’t use it...but what about the  _ Argo _ ? After all, it was still intact for the most part after Jason made it to Corinth…

Stan hid a smile at his brother’s perplexed owl face.

He was probably going to be gnawing on the question for a while.

* * *

“I got a couple gummy chairs. They’re kinda sticky from bein’ out in the heat, but they’re not loser candy like Uncle St-like my uncle thinks. You want one?”

“No.”

“You sure? I got the red and green ones, those’re my favorite flavors.”

“ _ No _ . Now be quiet.”

There were a few minutes of blessed silence, aside from the sound of chewing, that allowed Owain to go back to considering his plan. He had decided that ultimately, trying to get someone to become a changeling was probably too dangerous for dealing with this family. So instead, what he needed to do was have someone get close enough to the house to drop off a ransom note. Maybe it wasn’t the most traditional way for the Fair Folk or the Wild Hunt to do things, but-

“Why’s your hat too big?”

He gritted his teeth. “It’s a helmet, and it’s  _ not _ too big.”

“Yeah it is. It keeps falling over your eyes.”

Owain realized that he had just reflexively pushed it back off his forehead, and blushed. He decided not to dignify the question with a response.

“Why’s it got horns on it?”

“They’re  _ antlers _ , and they’re used to gore nosy children.”

“...What’s a gore?”

Owain groaned in exasperation. “Do you have to ask so many questions?!”

The boy drew himself up and lifted his hand like he was pushing back imaginary glasses. “My other uncle says that it’s good ta ask a lotta questions, cuz that’s how you get answers.”

“...Of course he does.”

The fact that he was unable to touch the boy seemed to have obliterated any fear he might have had towards Owain; he was blissfully sitting next to the wheel of his motorcycle, munching his grotesque melted candy and staring back at Abezethibou, who sat at his master’s feet and growled every time the boy moved. Clearly he had not forgiven him for his attack earlier.

To Owain’s relief, he finally could hear a roaring of engines, and the rest of his Hunters appeared at last, riding through the trees.

Terence had apparently filled them in on his plan, because they formed their bikes into a wide circle around the boy, effectively trapping him as long as he didn’t try to escape.

Owain told himself there was absolutely nothing wrong with that logic.

Much to his annoyance, not even the sight of everyone else, with all their weapons and unusual appearances, was enough to frighten the boy. Instead, the moment they all came to a halt and started dismounting, he raced right over to Morty, looking delighted.

“Are you the Grim Reaper?” he asked as he bounced a little on his toes. “My uncle says the Grim Reaper’s a walking skellington!”

Morty pulled back from the sting of iron.  _ “Wha-no. No, I’m not.” _

The boy drooped. “Rats. That would’ve been cool.”

Morty looked oddly disappointed (as much as it’s possible to tell with a skeleton) at hearing that a sentient skeleton who  _ wasn’t _ the Grim Reaper was apparently  _ not _ cool.

Owain cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention back to him.

“Does anyone have a pen and paper?”

The bikers looked at each other uncertainly.

Owain’s shoulders drooped.

“Seriously?  _ Nobody _ ?”

“We don’t usually have a big need to write things down, my prince,” Terence pointed out.

He buried his face in his hands for a moment to regain his composure. Finally he muttered, “Terence, send Drizzle’st into town to get writing materials.”

Terence cast an askance look at the dark elf in question.

“Um, my prince, it might be better to send Wulf or Hägar, because they’re better at passing off as human-”

“JUST SEND SOMEONE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the number one important rules of dealing with the Fair Folk: never give them your name, or the names of other people close to you.  
> It gives them power over you.


	5. A ransom is paid

Wulf managed to snag a pen and a small memo pad from the sheriff’s office; Owain gave an annoyed sigh when he saw that the memo pad had a picture of a sleeping kitten curled up around a basket of fruit on every page, and that the pen was one of those ones that had a fluffy tuft on top. As much as they undermined the ransom note’s threatening nature, though, he resigned himself to working with what was available to him. He sat down in the grass and started parsing out what he wanted to say.

This meant that he was no longer paying attention to his prisoner.

* * *

Xander was bored.

He hadn’t realized that being kidnapped could be this _ boring _ . Nobody would answer his questions about what they were or if they’d ever seen any big dragons and stuff, they just flinched away whenever he got close, and otherwise leaned on their bikes cleaning their weapons or whatever. The weapons were pretty cool to look at, at least, but Xander was a relatively sociable child; he craved human connection-or sentient being connection, which is probably what Uncle Ford would call it.

He turned his attention back to the dragon. It wasn’t exactly sentient, but it would do.

The dragon-Abe-something, whatever Antler Guy had called him-growled when Xander looked at him, just as he’d been doing all the previous times he’d looked at him. He was beginning to think that maybe he should have gone with his alternate method of trying to catch him-the means of which was currently stuffed into his other pants pocket.

Xander slowly reached into it, and pulled out the (now quite squashed) packet of lunch meat he’d grabbed out of the fridge, and dug out a slice which he held out for the dragon to smell.

The dragon’s nose twitched, and his head tilted to the side in a way that admittedly looked a lot like Xander’s puppy back home. Slowly he began to shuffle through the grass, all the while giving Xander suspicious looks like he expected to be attacked again. He just waited patiently, holding the meat out at arm’s length.

Finally the dragon got close enough to sniff at it, which he did for a few seconds, before at last grabbing an edge in his teeth. Xander released it, and the dragon trotted away on his stumpy little legs with his prize, which was quickly bolted down (probably nicely roasted in his flames while he ate).

Xander waited for a minute after he’d finished, and then pulled out another slice of meat; this time he ripped it in half, and held out one of the pieces for the dragon. He came more willingly this time, and didn’t go quite as far away to finish eating.

* * *

By the time Owain looked up from his work on the ransom note, Abezethibou was sitting in the prisoner’s lap, wagging his tail as he licked the inside of the lunch meat packet clean.

“What are you doing?!” he protested indignantly, as he tried to scramble to his feet but accidentally knelt on his cape and had to spend a minute getting it out from under him, “You’re fraternizing with the enemy!”

Abezethibou just yawned and permitted the boy to scratch his ears.

Owain fumed at the traitor, but then pulled a dagger out of his belt and walked as close to them as he could get without feeling the sting of iron.

“Boy, I need you to cut off a lock of your hair for me.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “...Whoa, is that  _ real _ ?”

“Yes, now focus! I need you to use it to cut off some of your hair!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to include it in the note so your family will know you’re my prisoner!” He threw the dagger at the boy’s feet.

The boy slowly moved Abezethibou off his lap and picked up the dagger, staring at it in amazement. It was one of Owain’s nicer ones, with rubies encrusted on the hilt and a blade that was enchanted to never become dull, so he grudgingly couldn’t find it in himself to blame him for being in awe of it.

After a second, though, the boy gave him that familiar belligerent stare that he was rapidly beginning to hate.

“Mom says I’m not supposed ta cut my own hair  _ or _ play with knives cuz I could really hurt myself-”

“Oh for crying out loud!” The prince of the Wild Hunt’s last shred of patience snapped. “Do you  _ not understand _ the gravity of the situation you’re in?! I  _ kidnapped _ you! That means you need to do what I say, whether your mom thinks it’s okay or not!”

Xander stumbled back in alarm, and his back collided with one of the motorcycles that was part of the ring around him.

Unfortunately, as small as he was it was Morty’s cycle, meaning it was made of bone, and so the boy crashing into it was enough to knock the machine over.

And it was very close to the motorcycle just behind it, so it fell over too.

And the only reason why the next motorcycle didn’t get knocked over along with them was that Terence managed to pull it away in time.

The boy stared at the mess with wide, innocent eyes.

He slowly turned his gaze back up towards Owain with an almost apologetic expression.

“...Oops.”

Owain slowly turned away, and walked over to the nearest tree, which he proceeded to bang his head against in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

* * *

“...Y’know, I’m beginning ta think maybe we should’ve brought sunscreen with us,” Stan said as he and Ford walked up the last leg of the trail home. He thought about trying to put his shirt on again, but remembering how badly his back was sunburned he decided against it. “You still got that magic lotion stuff, right?”

“It’s not magic, it’s just the perfect combination of ingredients needed to decrease sunburn in the swiftest amount of time possible.” Except for the area his glasses covered, Ford was just as much of a boiled lobster from the waist up as his twin.

“Same difference-hey, do you hear that?”

Someone close by was singing, off in the woods.

Specifically it was the song “C is for Cookie,” performed with all the tone-deaf gusto that a child was capable of.

The twins looked at each other, and went to investigate.

In a small clearing just inside the woods, they came upon the strangest sight they had seen in quite a while: Xander was sitting in the middle of a ring of motorcycles, with a very familiar dachshund on his lap, singing loudly. Sitting on the ground outside the circle was the Wild Hunt (American division), several of whom had their fingers in their ears, and none of whom looked as “cool” as their leather jackets showed they were supposed to be. And standing amongst them was none other than Rudolph himself-who, as soon as he laid eyes on the Pines twins, rushed forward and threw himself at their feet.

“ _ Please _ take him back!” he wailed, practically prostrating himself before them. “I give up-getting the bike back is not worth one more minute of this torture! He’s sung that same thing  _ thirty times in a row _ , and shows no indication of stopping!”

They both blinked.

“...Um...I feel like we’re missing something here,” Ford finally said.

Stan, who had caught on to the situation a little faster, developed a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Eh, I dunno, he seems ta be enjoying hanging out with you guys.” He waved to Xander. “Hey buddy, how’s it hangin’?”

Xander stopped singing and waved back. “Hi, Uncle St-Uncle!” Smart kid. “I was tryna catch this dragon ta show Mom, but then I found these guys and Antler Guy says he’s holdin’ me prisoner but he can’t touch me cuz of the magic necklace you guys gave me but they don’t wanna let me leave either so I got bored and was singing ta pass the time!” And he resumed “C is for Cookie.”

Stan grinned. “Attaboy!” He looked down at Rudolph. Or rather, Antler Guy. “Yeah, he seems pretty happy staying here, so maybe we should just-”

“ _ NO! _ ” Antler Guy wailed. “Please, I’ll do  _ anything _ !”

This time both twins smiled. Evilly.

* * *

When the humans finally walked back home, Xander was clutching a large bag of candy in one sticky hand and had a shiny new dagger in one of his belt loops (the only compensation he would accept for not being allowed to keep the hellhound); Ford had skin, hair and blood samples from every member of the Hunt, along with a promise that they would leave their family undisturbed until the end of time; and Stan had a brand new leather jacket tucked under his arm.

“Why do you want that?” Ford asked as they walked. “You don’t even have a motorcycle.”

“Hey, chicks dig a guy wearing one of these babies while driving too.” Stan wiggled his eyebrows.

Ford rolled his eyes to heaven, and held Xander’s free hand.

Just as they stepped onto the porch the door burst open, and Rebecca came striding out.

“There you are!” She grabbed her son by the shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug; her expression was a mixture of anger, abject terror and frantic relief. “What did I tell you about disappearing like that?! Did you forget what happened last time already?!”

“Sorry Mom,” Xander murmured against her. “I was tryna catch a dragon for you.”

Rebecca looked up at Stan and Ford sharply.

Both of them looked sheepish.

“...This time it wasn’t our fault,” Stan promised.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she muttered, even as she finally released her son and pulled open the door.

They meekly followed her inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owain tries to gather the shredded remains of his dignity as he and his Hunters ride a safe distance into the forest. Even as he crumples the unused ransom note and shoves it into his pocket, he's thinking about potential loopholes in the promise he made with the glasses-wearing one that he could use to get revenge on the people who have humiliated him not once, but TWICE now; such an offense must not go unpunished-  
> "Hey," one of the dark elves says in a tone of realization over the roar of the engines, "if you were able to get that close to those two, that means they didn't have protective charms on them. That means you coulda taken them prisoner right then and there."
> 
> There is a pause.  
> Then a long, frustrated scream echoes through the forest.  
> Terence dope-slaps the back of the elf's head. "Thanks a lot, Floyd."


End file.
